[REND] B2. 1.1 - Home Sweet Aloneness Again

“Home sweet home,” I sang as I entered the lobby of the condominium building. Deen was right behind me.

I was finally moving back in! It was the first Monday of February. After our law classes, Deen drove me here to help me with my bags. Their weight wasn’t an actual issue. I just couldn’t be seen lugging them all in one go, and I didn’t want to take multiple trips.

Oh, and I also had a new folding bike. Hurray!

Deen was more than happy to accompany me. I bet she’d try one last time to convince me to stay with her. “You’re awfully happy,” she said. “Didn’t you like staying at my place?”

“I did, I super did,” I said truthfully. It was awesome at her house. “But I prefer familiarity.”

I hate change. More specifically, changes to my daily routine. I was more bothered by living with Deen than becoming an Adumbrae.  

The squeaky marble tiles of the lobby, the potted mini palm trees that I wasn’t sure were real, the vending machine where I bought a bottle of milk tea each time I wanted a quick sugar rush, the ATM that needed a ritual to cough up your money—this was my home. I could relax, and I did feel very relaxed here. Familiarity quelled my urge to bother people.

There were familiar faces, too. The guard who greeted us at the door, the friendly janitor mopping a spill on the floor—hey, that rhymed—the nice lady at the counter… All of them were important to me.

Just kidding.

I didn’t care about any of them. Their faces were in my memories, but I couldn’t be assed to recall them. I couldn’t pick these people out of a police line-up even if I were paid with strawberry croissants.

I also didn’t know any of the other people living in the building. Not a single soul.

Many of them were quite nice, greeting me when we met inside the elevators and along the hallways. I would put on a friendly neighbor face and reply ‘hello’, ‘have a nice day’, and ‘nice weather’. Then I’d move on before they could continue the conversation. It was too much work to create a full-fledged face for each person here. A normal, disinterested neighbor persona was sufficient.

Deen and I entered the elevator. “Deen, let me carry my bike,” I said. “You already bought it for me. I feel like a total moocher.” I didn’t just feel like one. I really was a moocher.

“Oh, don’t be like that,” she said. “It’s a gift. Let me be the one to give gifts instead of receiving them.”

“Wow. You just can’t help but humble-brag?” We both giggled. Just two regular girls in an elevator. Nothing inhuman was going on.

I was glad that Deen didn’t put up too much of a fuss when I told her I’d leave. Her emotions were seesawing this weekend, and I found it difficult to open the topic.

Friday night, she alternated between crying and shutting down. She didn’t even eat a single piece of the fried chicken bucket that I ordered, even though she promised to. I ended up looking like a pig, eating it on my lonesome. Somehow I was still hungry after all of what happened.

Come Saturday, Deen was sort of fine. We studied at a café and went to a salon afterward—I accompanied her as part of my ‘being nice’ moment. I even convinced her to eat the leftover fried chicken for dinner. I doubted anyone else could’ve done that. I asked her about what happened at the docks, and she only gave me vague details. I had wanted a blow-by-blow narration of my giant werewolf self, but Deen evaded the topic.

By yesterday, Sunday, the craziness bug bit Deen again. She was all down and whatnot. A total gloomy mushroom, not moving from the sofa. I bet she watched the news in her room and saw that many people died in the ‘accidental explosions’ at the docks—this was the official story the city was running with.

I asked Deen what was wrong, being a good friend. And I wanted more details about my Blanchette escapades.

She mumbled gibberish. It was probably something stupid, like her conscience being bothered by all the people who died. I bet that a lot of them were innocent people working for the 2Ms without knowing the monstrously illegal truth of what was going on. Fortunately, by yesterday evening, Deen returned to normal as she studied on the kitchen counter, watching me cook dinner.

My dinner. Deen was contentedly munching a carrot stick. Humans didn’t evolve to stay as herbivores.

It was at that moment that I decided to broach the topic. “Uh, Deen,” I told her last night. “I was thinking about something. I hope you don’t get angry with me.”

Deen shot me a questioning glance as she paused mid-bite.

“I’m planning,” I said, “to return to my condo.”

“What?” Deen exclaimed, closing her grip on the carrot and crushing it.

“Don’t go ballistic on me now,” I said.

“I’m not going—”

“You’re just practicing for a carrot juicing competition?”

“Erind,” she said in an exasperated tone as if I were a misbehaving child. “We’re sticking together because it’s dangerous, remember? Now, you want to go back to living on your own? What if the 2Ms attacked you? What if the police investigate you and—?”

“Let me make my case,” I said, waving the spatula as I didn’t break eye contact. Making her conscious of seeming bossy was a sure way to halt her aggressiveness.

Deen puffed herself up, ready to argue some more. I held firm and stared her down. After a few seconds of an intense staring match, she deflated. “Sorry, sorry. I was just…”

“I know you want to keep me safe,” I said, returning to frying bacon. I wanted grease, salt, and fat for dinner. I had too much sugar yesterday. “And I’m grateful for that. Just hear me out. Isn’t it suspicious that we started living together? This isn’t normal.”

“Huh? You’re worried about what people would think about us? This is 2020, no one cares about—”

“What are you talking about?” I then realized what was going on inside her head, “Oh my gosh!” I said in between fits of laughter. “I’m not saying that people might think we’re a couple because I’m living with you.” The fuck, I almost said out loud.

“Oh…” Deen blushed.

“I’m saying that if someone is looking into us, they’d think it’s weird that we’re living together just out of the blue. We have Ramello’s uncle snooping around. We have the 2Ms. The less we look like a group, the better.”

Besides enjoying the peace of solitary living, I wanted to go back to my condo to practice fighting and controlling my powers. I hadn’t tried on the new mask that Spooky Erind gave me. I didn’t know if it’d change too much of my body, like my hair would all suddenly turn white or my eyes would glow red. Much better if I lived alone when testing stuff.

And if I really wanted to destroy things and feel the rush of power again, I could leave and find a place to let loose, like the bunkers Overdrive had told me about. No need to sneak out of Deen’s house.

We had a little back and forth, but Deen eventually agreed. “You can leave, but you have to promise me one thing.”

“Why do you make it sound like I’m your prisoner?”

Deen pouted. “You can also ignore me because you don’t care about our friendship.”

“Emotional blackmail? I didn’t know Amber Deen Leska would stoop so low.” I was a huge proponent of emotional blackmail, but I wasn’t stooping for anything since I was already short. “What do you want?”

“You have a Snippet account, right?”

“Yeah. So that I can check announcements and stuff on our class groups. If not for it, I wouldn’t have made an account. You know that I dislike social media.” The main reason for this was Rule #17, preventing me from making a face online because I couldn’t tailor that to a specific person.

A face was the truth for each person I made it for. That simply wouldn’t work over the internet. Who was my specific target audience? Also, there’d be a permanent record of any face I left on the internet, which might clash with any future face I’d make.

Thus, incorporated into each face was a built-in feature that the persona didn’t like using social media. There was more to it than that, but that was mostly how Rule #17 worked. And social media has plenty of negative effects in general.   

“At least get the messenger app of Snippet,” Deen insisted, “so we can communicate faster.”

“Here we go again.” I rolled my eyes as I turned off the stove.

Indeed, Deen went on about the benefits of using Snippet instead of just texting. “The message is instantaneous. You can send pics, send videos, you can call, even a video call if needed.”

“Are you paid to advertise them or something?”

“There’s also location sharing, so we can easily find you in case of an emergency. You don’t have to use it beyond that. Stay off social media if you want. But it never hurts to check what’s going on. How come you don’t know this?”

“I didn't have many friends at school, so I never needed it.”

“Well, you need it now.”

“Fine, fine.”

And so, I escaped from Deen’s house on good terms with her. Spooky Erind did tell me to make friends.  

“Have you contacted any of Dario’s group?” I asked as the elevator went up.  “Well, our group, since we’re working with them.”

In the aftermath of what happened at the docks, the city declared an everyone-stay-the-fuck-at-home order for the weekend. News outlets, possibly under directives from the government, were quick to allay the fears of the people, spinning a story that it was ‘nothing serious’. Explosive chemicals were mistakenly stored in the wrong warehouse. They caught fire and kaboom! Some more kaboom. Supposedly, dangerous chemical fumes were spreading, so people shouldn’t go out.

Deen and I had no idea if the authorities had discovered any of the inhuman bodies there. They must’ve, right? Or were the 2Ms able to keep the police out of the scene? I wasn’t sure how that’d be possible.

If the government did discover the illegal stuff going on there, they must’ve decided not to reveal it to the public to prevent panic. After the Adumbrae attack on the trains, reports that there were lots of monsters at the docks would start the fire of chaos across the city.

In any case, there was the very real possibility that the BID would get involved.

And so, Dario decided that we should all stay low and keep safe. No contact with one another in the meantime to avoid looking like a group. We shouldn’t act suspiciously. Continue with our lives and prepare alibis for last Friday.

“Not yet,” Deen said. “It’s too soon.”

“I guess you’re right. I want to know if Johann has an inside scoop about what the police know.”

“Me too. I’m up all night imagining that the BID would suddenly attack my house.”

“Don’t stress yourself out,” I said. “Gabe would warn you about that. There’s no way the BID could catch you.”

“And that’s why you should stay with me,” Deen said. “We can still go back.”

“I’ll visit you, okay? But we need to find out about—”

We stopped talking as the elevator stopped and dinged open. A couple of people greeted me, and I politely gave the appropriate response. I bet they must be going up to the pool. I hadn’t even been up there. Why would I visit anywhere else in this building other than my room?

They chatted about the explosion at the docks. One guy enthusiastically pushed the theory that Adumbrae were found there. The BID eliminated them, explaining the explosions. Deen and I looked at each other. He was close but also far from his theory.

Deen and I alighted the elevator and the twenty-second floor. “Maybe I should move in here,” Deen said as we walked down the hallway. “It would be nice to get away from my sister. But she wouldn’t allow me to live on my own.”

“You’re twenty-three,” I said. “Why would she care what you did?”

“Because that’s just the way it is,” Deen glumly said.

“Oh…” I sighed as if I understood what she was talking about. My mom was chill and didn't mind me doing whatever, as long as I stay safe.

“Can I enter your room?” Deen asked. “The last time, you didn’t want me to because you hadn’t cleaned up. But since you’ve entered my room, isn’t it only fair that—?”

“Fine,” I groaned.

Passing through the doorway of my unit, I inhaled deeply, taking in the stale air of a room that hadn’t been opened for a few weeks. I loved it! No need to keep up my face for an ungodly amount of time around Deen. Peace was within my grasp.

Deen set my bike down. “It’s not dirty here. Admit that you were just shy.”

“Thank you for everything,” I said, dodging the question. I summoned every bit of fake sincerity in my body. “I’ll initiate a hug as a sign of my gratitude.”

I spread my arms and wrapped them around Deen’s midsection, pulling her to me, and laying my head on her chest. My hand felt her back. This was where her spine was. It would be so easy to rip her spine out and—No! Erase those thoughts, or the Guardian Angel might say something to her. It was better that Deen was alive as my pawn.

“See, it’s not so bad hugging people.” Deen hugged me back tightly. “You won’t combust like a vampire under the sun.”

After several seconds, I said, “I think that’s enough hugging for now. That’ll last us for a while.”

“Don’t forget to check your messages always,” Deen said. “I have to get going because my sister wants me to accompany her to an event tonight.”

And with Deen gone, I could finally wear Spooky Erind’s latest present.